Recoveries
by Ambrelle Shirak
Summary: Chronicles the events that take place after those in Character Sketches. Told from alternating views: Nightshade, Halogen, DropZone, Sideswipe, Bluestreak and Mirage!
1. Ch 1: Reactivation

Set after the events in the 'Character Sketches.'**  
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* * *

**Reactivation**

_Nightshade_

I have heard bots talk in the past about dreaming while in stasis lock. I have listened to the tales and shrugged them off as mere myth and conjecture. I have never dreamt. Not once. The last records that my internal logging system indicate were the impending warning of the loss of cabin pressure and the impending crash of the _Raven_. A systems check shows that only my most vital components are functioning.

--_Systems at 64 Capacity. Initializing optical routers._--

There is a burst of static that always precedes the reactivation of my optics. Self-preservation protocols cause my optical shields to lower, dampening the influx of light. Just the amplitude of the wavelengths indicate that I am currently lodged in a medical unit... somewhere. Uncertainty gnaws at my circuits, followed closely by a surge of rage that threatens to overwhelm my logic centers.

"She's online!"

I recognize the vocalizer frequency. I sit up faster than my own gyros can compensate for, and teeter for a moment on the brink of falling. Halogen hops up onto the slab beside me like one of the springlops from Kethlon IV. I cannot help but smirk wryly as he steadies me moments after my own gyros have come completely back online. He drops one midnight-blue armored arm around my shoulders and actually hugs me.

I wait for the com-ping, listening intently to the tight-wave band that we three use to communicate. But silence greets the gesture. Turning my optics back to Middle Brother, I find him watching me sadly. "Where is he?" I inquire, already feeling the answer deep in my Spark.

"Nights..." Halogen never has a chance to finish. Something else moves within my field of vision, and reflex takes over. A small compartment in my forearm infrastructure slides open, dropping three slender blades of pure energy into my hand. The new figure stops abruptly with his hands raised.

"Not again," he groans, seeming to roll his optics for a moment. I study him from behind my optic shields. My sensors tell me all I need to know, his vital spots, the weak joints in his boxy armor, the very fact that he is only running at 28 capacity. His appearance is written into hard memory, right down to the scowl that he is directing with fervor in my direction.

Halogen reaches out and gently takes the ener-daggers from me, shaking his head. "Ratchet, give us a few breems?" I have just attached the designation to the appearance, and I can easily extrapolate his purpose. Both his Autobot insignia emblazoned upon the lower slope of his chest piece, and his location here in the medical facility, this is one of the medical staff. When I couple the entreating way my brother affects to him, with the imperious look upon the Autobot's face, I can easily assume that this... 'Ratchet' is the Chief Medical Officer.

"Just a few." Ratchet finally tells Halogen, after appearing to weight his options. "Don't break her, Halo."

My head gains a curious tilt as I regard the familiarity with which the CMO addresses Middle Brother. Halogen's scarlet optics dim, because he knows exactly what I expect: answers. I do not need to speak; we simply have an understanding.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Halo releases my shoulders, to take me by the hand. I lower my gaze to where his silver fingers entwine with my ebony ones. He has never done that before. Uncomfortable with his attempted intimacy, I draw away.

"The crash." I state, factually. "Precisely, two and a half nanoclicks before I went offline." Halogen rubs the lower half of his faceplate instead of vocalizing a response. The silence stretches on for a few cycles. "How long have I been inactive?"

He actually waves me off. It takes every iota of self-control I possess to refrain from smacking him. My fists ball up and tense, and my optical shields retract back into the crest of my helm. Static frizzles slightly at the edges of my vision, until my systems compensate and adjust to account for the brilliance. Halogen's continued silence prompts me to compare my internal chronometer to the time-date stamp on my hard memories.

The alarm must have registered upon my features once the discrepancy is noticed. Halo grabs both of my arms to keep me stationary, to stop me from getting to my feet and venting my surging anger. Every one of my circuits burns with the knowledge that I was kept offline for so long. It is only when Halogen releases my arms, and grabs my head, forcing the optical connection between us, that his words even begin to sink into my processors.

"It's not what you think, Nights. You've been hit by a virus, a potent one. We're lucky we stopped it before it ate through all your hard memory." I grab reflexively onto his forearms, my ebon fingers flat and dull against his keen polish. "You've lost..."

There is no need for him to finish; I know the exact time period that I have lost. I lower my head, averting my optics from the truth. My audio receptors register the sounds of approach, but it is a conscious choice to refrain from looking. Another hand joins the attempts of Halo's comforts, resting against the back of my helm for a few moments.

"I'm kicking you out, Halo." There is an odd note of kindness attached to Ratchet's gruff tone, as though Middle Brother is genuinely liked here. "You need some good recharge."

Halogen's hands squeeze against my helm, a gesture that I am content with interpreting as affectionate. He hops back down from the slab and takes one last look at me. In those few clicks that we make contact, I ping his com on our encrypted frequency.

"_Where is DropZone?_"

Halogen watches me steadily from the egress. "_He didn't make it._" I have no time to find a reply, as he vanishes behind the closing door. I realize that I am numb to the death of Elder Brother. My arms cross over my chassis, barely cognizant of the medic looming casually over my shoulder. He misinterprets my silence and lays a hand once more on my shoulder. Reflex dictates that I move away from him, but instinct forces me to remain under his touch.

"You shouldn't worry." Ratchet begins to usher me from one area of the medical bay to another, using gentle pressure against my shoulder. "Memory loss is usually recoverable with the proper reminders." He is smiling at me, trying to make me feel comfortable in his presence. He leads me into a smaller off-set chamber, complete with a recharge bunk and a data-reader. "I'd like you to rest here tonight, just so we can make sure the virus doesn't have any unexpected side effects." He gestures vaguely toward the data-reader. "I took the liberty to upload some of the new King novels..."

I glance up at the taller mech when he trails off. He is expecting some manner of response, and so I nod slightly. It does not seem to assuage his strange nervousness. Finally, he claps his hands together and turns to leave. "I'll check on you before I head off." He does not even speak in my direction, simply vacating the small chamber in haste.

I remain stationary for a few moments, surveying the entrances and exits from the small room, taking careful note of the size parameters of the two ventilation shafts. With a slight nod, I sit on the edge of the bunk and retrieve the data-reader. I wonder why the CMO would have provided me with reading materials. Reading material written by a Terran author. I scan and rescan the first page more times than I care to keep track of. One recurring thought continually breaks up processing of the words.

_Dropzone's gone._


	2. Ch 2: Memory Jog

**Memory Jog**

_Sideswipe_

We are not sneaking. Just because Prime's got this place working on a schedule that best fits our bitty human buddies, we shouldn't have to adhere to those specs ourselves! Sunny and I never have. So, even though we're walking around the _Ark_ in the middle of the Terran night, we're not sneaking. We worked out the plan: Sunny's gonna watch the door for the Attack of the Grumpy Medic, while I go in and find out if First Aid was telling the truth... not that there's any reason that he'd lie to us. I just need to find out for myself. Sunny hasn't said so, but I think he feels the same.

Neither Sunny or I have talked about what we're gonna do if she's really lost these past astrocycles. I'm prepared and willing to start all over again, but Sunny doesn't have that kind of patience. And he'd just been starting to open up! Sometimes, Fate can be a bitch. One of these days, I'm going to get my hands around Fate's neck and twist...

"_Okay. Here goes nothing. Wish me luck._" I grin over my shoulder at my twin when we pause in front of the medbay doors.

Sunny gives me a shove that's hard enough to send me through the doors. "_If I were goin', I wouldn't need luck._"

Hardly willing to let him get the last pot shot in, I fire back. "_If you were goin', she'd run in terror and then we'd never find her again!_" Hah, take that! I cut the com link before he can even so much as growl at me. The medbay is dark. Not just dark, but that sort of darkness that seems to cling. Thankfully, I've been in here enough times to know exactly where I have to step to make the least amount of noise. And I know nothing has moved, because Ratchet keeps this place nice and pristine.

"Nights?" I dare to vocalize aloud. She wouldn't've recognized my code ident with her short term all fragged. I hear something move in the darkness, and head that way. My internal mapping unit lets me know that the noise is coming from the little private area that Ratchet had set aside. Makes sense that she'd have been put in the observation spot. Viruses aren't really something that we can joke about.

I advance a bit further, until I feel a soft _ka-tink_ against the side of my helm, just above my audio receptor. I freeze in place, taking a moment to wonder exactly how I always seem to get myself into these sorts of situations. The small round point nudges slightly, and I realize with a Spark-lurch that I've got the end of a blaster pistol pressed to the side of my head.

"Who are you?"

"Primus, Nightshade!" Its out of my mouth before I can stop it, and suddenly I feel like I'm running off verbally like Bluestreak. "You scared the energon right out of me! Sneaking up on a mech like that, really!"

She pushes my head again with her pistol. "I repeat, who are you?" I can't make out her outline in the darkness. She's black and not-shiny for a very good reason. And this, right here, is that exact reason. When Cliffjumper accuses her of being an assassin, he's completely right. I ignore the ping from Sunstreaker, mostly because it isn't marked Urgent or anything.

"Sideswipe." I supply quickly once I know she really means business. My Spark feels like its drowning, and, when I receive another ping from Sunny, I know he's starting to feel it too. "_She didn't recognize me..._" I transmit to my twin, letting the dismay, anxiety and fear all seep into the simple words.

There's a few moments hesitation, and then the gun barrel retreats from my head. I try not to let my relief show visibly, but I can't help but sag a little. "Autobot." She says it like it's a curse, derisively. After a moment, there's a flicker of light, and two slivers of red hang suspended in midair. Without her optical shields in place, I can finally make out her dim outline. Sunny's about ready to bash in the door, so I open the com between us, letting him hear everything that transpires.

"So it's true," I didn't think that this realization would hurt so much. Sunny and I have just lost a playmate, for lack of a better term. "You don't remember." It looks like she turns away, because her optics blink out for a few moments.

"Exactly... _what_ wouldn't I be remembering?" There's something... sinister in her tone, like an unspoken threat that lurks quietly behind the words. "Well?" Her optics become visible in the darkness once again, but she's nearly eight strides away from me now, between myself and the door.

"We... we used to go for drives together," I supply, mouth operating before my processors can stop it.

"_Way to be suave, Sides,_" Sunny pokes fun at my discomfort. My focal point shifts to the door for a split second, but it's not fast enough to escape Nightshade's attention.

"Drives?" she echoes, tilting slightly to glance behind her.

I nod, confident that she can see my action in the dark. Her optics vanish again. Keeping track of her, is like trying to follow Mirage when he's being antisocial. But she doesn't know the infirmary as well as I do, so I hear the soft scrape of her fingertips against the slabs as she bumps into it. Did she just do that on purpose? I thought she could see clearly in the near complete dark.

"_She's headed toward you, Sunny,_" I offer as a warning. I'm not sure what Nights is about to do; before she reaches the door, Sunny activates the entrance, and floods the room with a shaft of pure light.

Nightshade reels from the abrupt shift. I can't see her optic shields drop, but I know that's what happens, blacking out her entire face once more. She reacts on pure instinct, not even stopping to think about her actions, or what the consequences are going to be. She swings a fist at the last spot she'd seen Sunstreaker standing.

I'm ready to leap in an tackle her to the ground, but Sunny's method works just as well. He ducks her blindly thrown punch and catches her fist before she can swing off-balance. The two freeze for a moment, giving me just enough time to insert myself between the two of them. I'm waiting for her next instinct to kick in, waiting for the all-out attack to come. Her ocular surfaces flicker back into functionality as a silence descends on us.

Man, Sunny looks pissed. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of whatever he's saying to her. And I know he's saying something; the two of them are optic-locked. Whatever he's done, he's defused her instincts, because her balled fist loosens, and she attempts to take a complete step backward. After a moment, he lets her go. I shift my weight from side to side.

Has my own brother been keeping secrets from me? What did they just share? I'm waiting for Sunny to tell me.

"Let's go." He growls, waving a hand dismissively at Nights. "Her fault for tangling with that big bot. She can't miss something she doesn't remember, Sides." He turns, and walks out, leaving me standing alone in the shaft of light from the corridor. Nightshade has begun to fade back into the darkness again.

I watch her retreat for a few more moments, before turning to join my brother. Just as I palm the controls to close the door, I think I hear Nightshade murmur something. I capture the sound, and set about replaying and amping up the vocal signature.

It wasn't until a few dozen cycles later, and serious milage down I-84 do I finally figure out the single word.

She called us _sparktwins._


	3. Ch 3: Concerns

**Concerns**

_Halogen_

"What in the Inferno is _that_?"

Nights' tone makes me wince, cringing slightly as she stalks forward. Her index finger flicks off the red insignia painted on the sweep of my chassis. She flicks it again, stretching to her full height to get a really good look at it. It's barely been 3 cycles since she came back to me, but she's already chomping at the bit to do _something_. The worst part has been explaining to her that Optimus Prime has our contract on a long-term basis. And now, she's noticed the one thing I was hoping she wouldn't.

"Uh..." I falter for an explanation.

"You... defaced yourself." She fills it in for me, using words that I would never have ascribed to the little red face. "You must be joking."

I let the anger flash through my circuits and expend itself in that futile race. Grabbing her hand, I shove her backwards, deeper into the lounge. Further away from the inquiring ears that occupy the other half. Any minute now, I expect her launch into one of her old tirades about the fundamental differences between Decepticons and Autobots. When she doesn't start, I figure she's waiting for an answer from me.

"Look, you weren't this opposed to it when I originally got it." That defuses her bluster. I hate doing it, constantly reminding her of things that she's missing or facts that she should know. But Ratchet says it's supposed to help her out. Nights actually retreats from the confrontation, and I'm left staring bewildered at her spinal curve. "Aww, sis..." I reach out, laying a hand on her shoulder strut.

Whip-fast and twice as hard, she knocks my hand away and spins toward me. "Stop. Just stop." I worry about the slightly odd, emotionless quality she's painted on her vocalizer. "Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to remember anything? Do you think, for just a nanosecond, that I might be happier this way?"

I can feel everyone looking our way. I'm terrified that Bumblebee is going to come over here to try and defuse this. I square my shoulders up, and look down at Nightshade. I may only be taller than her by a head, but its enough for the perfect glare. "I don't think you're happier this way." I tell her as confidently as I can. She hasn't smiled or laughed once in the past three cycles. "In fact, I think you're miserable, and you're just deluding yourself into contentment." I let myself grin triumphantly, putting on a bit of the arrogant show.

Her optics narrow, threateningly. "You obviously do not understand me." The sounds of Autobots getting warily to their feet causes her gaze to shift quickly around me. Wisely, she chooses to take a half-step back. I'm so frustrated with my Creation-sister right now, that I advance that half-step toward her.

My com pings softly before I can address Nightshade's anger issues. Instead of answering the com, I glance over my shoulder to see which one of those crazy Autobots is going to be sacrificed up as cannon-fodder. Bluestreak's the one that meets my optics, but he looks away quickly. I shake my head, once he glances back up, warning him off. That scarred Datsun wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell against Nights right now.

I sigh hard enough to get my intakes to rattle. I grab her by both shoulders before she can back out of my grasp, and I pull her close. "_I thought I knew you._" I inform her, taking the conversation private. "_But I'm starting to feel like you're a completely different bot these days._"

"You spend too much time with the Autobots." She doesn't pull her verbal punches, choosing to keep the conversation live and aloud. "You are getting soft, trusting in appearances, and ignoring your instincts. I do not need a soft-shelled sibling dogging my every move, or attempting to discern ulterior motives behind my actions. I do not like being surrounded by Autobots." She actually pokes my insignia to punctuate her statement. "I can feel myself slumping like plating in the Slag Pits."

"What a pretty picture," I mutter at her. My hand slides down from her shoulder to wrap around the plating of her upper arm. "C'mon, I need to make sure you're not still getting eaten up by the virus."

I know I shouldn't have mentioned the infirmary even before the phrase is completely out of my vocalizer. Nightshade twists, wriggling her arm out of my grasp. Granted, I'm not trying to hold on too hard. "No. I will be in my quarters. You may speak to me again when you take... that thing... off."

She taps the Autobot insignia again, prompting me to cover the spot with my hands. She brushes past me, past Bumblebee and Bluestreak, between a few Aerialbots, and finally out of the lounge without another word. She doesn't answer my com ping.

I spread my hands and shrug helplessly at the rest of them. "Girls, man... So wrapped up in appearance." That's me trying to make light of the situation. Bluestreak looks confused for a few moments, before starting to ask Bumblebee what I meant.

'Bee's faster on the upswing than I am. "Let's get Halo some high-grade, Blue." I'm thankful that 'Bee intercepts the oncoming influx of Bluestreak-ness. I don't think my processors could handle sorting out the meat of his commentary.

"Sure thing; I mean I know that if I had a sister, and she were half as crazy and mixed up as yours is I would sure want to wash every fight away with a bot--"

I feel guilty tuning Blue out like that, but it's for my own good. He keeps going as he heads for the dispenser. I drop heavily into one of the empty spots at 'Bee's table. Thank Primus that those Aerialbots keep to themselves, once they see that there's not going to be any action. In the quick breems of relative quiet that we have until Bluestreak gets back, I trade a weary glance with Bumblebee.

"That bad, huh?" he asks, obviously trying to be gentle about it.

I can only nod, before setting my head in my hands. "I need to get her into Ratchet again. I think that virus affected her right down to her Spark."

"Hasn't he checked all that?" The surprise is understandable, since I'm not usually one for questioning the CMO's methods or diagnosis. When I nod in response, 'Bee reaches out to pat my arm. "Don't worry, Halo. She'll come back to us."

It must be nice being so optimistic all the time, I realize. I don't answer as Bluestreak come back with a mug for me. He then picks up his own mug and passes us a smile. I notice that I've still got his vocalizer frequency tuned out, so I disengage the filter before I make an idiot of myself.

"-- I'm gonna go see if I can find Mirage, and see what he's gotta say about this whole thing. He knew Nights best, besides you Halo, that is, I mean who can possibly know Nights better than you, you've been working with her since you two were Created."

"We get the picture, Blue." Bumblebee laughs. He makes it look so easy, getting Blue to shut up without being mean about it. I should be taking tact lessons from the little yellow scout. Blue just laughs in good nature, and heads out of the lounge. Bee watches the retreating aft of the Datsun before he glances back at me once more. "He's not going to look for Mirage."

"I know."

"Do you think she'll hurt him?"

I groan softly, and lower my face into my hands. "I dunno, Bee. I just dunno..."


	4. Ch 4: 20 Breems

**Twenty Breems**

_Bluestreak_

I catch up with Nightshade exactly where I expect to find her, which is right outside of her quarters, which makes me feel like this was a good choice to make. If I hadn't been able to find her, it would have been because she didn't want to be found, and not because I didn't know where to look for her. Mirage told me that besides himself, and Halogen, he thinks that I know just about as many of her hiding places as they do. I just know where to find her when she disappears from public sight; its really funny when she disappears on Red Alert's vid-watch cycle, because he freaks out and nearly blows fuses every time he can't get her pinpointed on one camera system or another...

But, oh, right, so I found her. But she doesn't look like she was too much in the mood to talk. That's fine, I figure, because any other time she never wanted to talk she always had listened. Even so, when she stands in the entry to her quarters looking like that, like the whole world has come crashing down upon her shoulders, and there isn't anyone else there to help her carry it, I really feel... bad. For once, my vocalizer stalls halfway through startup, and I hesitate before saying anything. I don't know what to say.

She turns slightly toward me, optics narrowed and suspicious. I open my hands and offer her a smile, my best one, the one she always said she liked because it made the sadness run away. But she doesn't have any sort of reaction to my smile, no indication that she remembers anything. I hazard the chance to glance into her quarters, and suddenly, my mouth starts running without the optimization of my brains.

"Is there something wrong with your quarters, Nights? We can have anything you want changed around, a different configuration on the recharge berth? Spike's really good at finding all sorts of human culture stuff if you want to change some of the po-"

"Everything is fine."

She cut me off. I stop short; my vocalizer cutting itself out naturally as the shock registers through my systems. She actually cut me off. She's never cut me off before; she's always been the one to let me ramble on, let me go on and on about whatever I came out of my mouth. The coward inside me, that little nagging voice that tells me I'm worthless and that's why the Decepticons never killed me that day... that mech that I hate to admit resides in myself... he's telling me that I should turn around and run away.

_But, Nights needs me._ That's the thought that drags my Spark back out of the darkness just in time to wedge myself into the entryway. Wheeljack toned down all the hydraulics on the door systems months ago, when he was scared that they'd crush one of the unwary humans. So its an easy thing these days to keep a door from closing. It doesn't even dent my armor. Nightshade had already entered, and she looks up from where she was inspecting a datapad near the back wall.

"Are you still here?" she growls at me. "Can you take the hint that I would like to be alone?"

"I really don't think alone is what you want to be right now," There. I try the honest tone, holding out both of my hands to her. "If you'd wanted to be alone, you would have vanished, like you always do. Just i poof /i , for however long you want to be gone. Boy, do I worry about you when you do that. But not as much as Halo; for such a happy guy he sure can get anxious about your moods." I pause, studying her lack of reaction. Astroseconds tick by, stretching out into silence. Fear itches beneath my armor, and I'm forced to hide the tremble of my hands by dropping them back to my sides, useless.

When she turns toward me once more, she's dropped every pretense of being nice. "If you do not leave within the next five breems, I **will**rip your vocalizer from your throat and crush it."

It'd be a lie if I said that she didn't scare me, because she terrifies me now. I take an instinctive step backward, and she turns her attention back to the datapad, apparently satisfied that I'm really going to leave. I hesitate more, feeling the chronometer tick the moments by. She either chooses to ignore me, or truthfully forgets that I am here, because she slowly turns her back on me.

The urge seizes me and I comply to those baser emotions before I even realize just what I'm doing. I run across the room, and desperately throw my arms around her from behind. I pin her arms to her side, nearly bending the two of us in half as I clamp down my grip. She fits neatly into my grip, just small enough that the lower half of my jaw rests atop the crown of her helm.

"Please, please, remember, Nightshade. I can't lose you, not after.. not now... not ever!" Babbling incoherently. The stress makes it happen, a constant stream of thought coming right out of my vocalizer, without any clarifying filters between thoughts and words. "You gotta remember that time that you beat Brawl senseless and forced Swindle to trade me for him... and that night you asked me to stay because I kept the ghosts away. You told me about the ghosts, remember? All those Spar--"

I feel her tense, half an astrosecond too late. Both her feet come up, her weight supported in my arms; with her feet against the wall, she shoves. Pushes me right over. I let go of her to try and catch myself, but I land hard on my aft, barely with enough time to get the first syllable of her name out of my vocalizer. I process what she's doing, but I refuse to comprehend it.

Jazz had once described her in this beautifully poetic way, saying that she was always like one of those human fireworks... so lovely to observe from a distance, but burning and painful when one ventures too close. And here I am... caught too close. She pivots in midair, as she drops delicately to one foot. The other leg swings out, catches the side of my helm so hard that it leaves my CPU scrambled and my audio receptors ringing. Just as quickly, she's shoving me hard in the chest, shouting in my face.

It takes a few moments for my audios to sort out static from her voice, but finally...

"How dare you presume to know me? What gives you the right to make blanket assumptions about my Spark, my profession, and my allegiance?" Her balled fists flicker with the light-form of energon; she's forming weapons out of them as she shouts in my face. "I have slain greater bots in their treads for lesser infra-"

She's cut off just like I was, as her bunk's entrance slides wide open under the authority of an override code. Sideswipe is the first to break the silence, giving off one of his rebel yells as he tackles Nights right off of me. I don't even register the two of them tussling in the corner, until Sunstreaker dives in to join his brother. The two of them get her pinned down on her knees, Sides knee planted on the back of her head to keep her immobile.

Halogen's helping me to my feet, checking me over for injuries. He's not looking at his partner. He's not looking at me. I swear Mirage was just standing in the doorway, but now he's gone too; replaced by Prowl's imposing figure. Halo gives me a helping hand down to the medbay, while the Twins get to drag poor Nightshade off to the brig. I can't even find words to describe how I feel... as I helplessly try to express myself to Halogen.

"I know. I know," he finally murmurs, even when I can't get a single word out. "You made it twenty breems before she snapped... that's longer than I've ever gone."


	5. Ch 5: Outside the Comfort Zone

**Outside the Comfort Zone**

_Mirage_

Nights sits, lonely and silent in the confines of the cell. Hound had been posted on guard, but it was easy to convince him to swap with me. It's barely been a breem since he left, but I've had more than enough time to observe Nightshade. She's hunched over, elbows on her knees, face hidden by her hands. The very picture of remorse. Like a flicker of the femme that I once knew, and trusted. But even as my Spark softens to see her like this, I still see the devastation on Blue's face, the shallow dent she caused by being so savage with him. That's enough to make me angry all over again.

"So? Are you happy now?" My invisibility drops as soon as I vocalize. Nightshade leaps up from the slab, predatory in motion, snarling and growling like a caged tiger. There's a force shield between us and the entirety of the brig's defenses ready to leap into life if I so utter the word. I'm not afraid of her. She halts just shy of the force barrier, fists balled tightly at her sides. I don't give her a chance to get a word in.

"You've destroyed him. Completely undone all of the healing he's done since you showed up here. Do you realize what your callousness has done? What violence has cost you? Cost all of us? He only wanted to help."

"I do not need any help!" There's a desperation to her voice. "Why can it not be silent?" She grabs her helm, lowers her face once more and vibrates so hard that her armor rattles softly. It's so hard to not drop the force shield and move in to comfort her.

"It's the ghosts." I tell her, as gently as I can. Crossing my arms, I carefully keep myself steady, waiting for the eruption. "They're being loud again, aren't they?" She told me about them once, after I had caught her talking to herself. None of us stationed here are qualified to even guess at why she believes herself to be haunted. I've never asked Ratchet his opinion...

She's turned her back from me, while I've stood here in silence, waiting for the eruption of her fury. She paces, back and forth, across the shallow depth of the cell. She is completely silent as she moves. I ignore my chronometer; I don't want to know how long I'm watching her. My anger flickers and fades as I watch. I just can't keep a grudge. Finally she stops pacing and stands an arms length back from the force shield.

"I do not remember killing him."

The confession takes me by surprise. "Who?" I step closer, edging along the force shield as she averts her optics from me. Already I'm going through all my memories of her time here on Earth, trying to figure out who she may have extinguished, either... purposefully, or accidentally.

"The Seeker." Finally, she looks up, and for the brief moment that our optics connect, I know that she's terrified of what the presence of one unidentified ghost may mean. "I know the rest... the tactician, the scientist... Shakedown... Crossfire..."

She trails off just as I manage to find a few references to what I think she may be feeling. "Thrust." I supply the name of the Conehead Seeker, and she takes an involuntary step backwards. "You crashed him into a mountainside." When she starts to shake her head, I back off, biding my time.

"I never. I have no memories of... That is impossible. Prime forbid me to ki--"

I can't help but grin, and feel that surge of hope empower my circuits with a boldness I wouldn't normally possess. "What? You remember something. Don't you?"

Nightshade nods, and backs away to the small slab. She takes her seat once more, and for a moment, hides her face behind her hands. "Prime. Your Prime... writ my contract... forbid me to kill."

I feel some measure of triumph when she says that. If she remembers something that happened so long ago, nearly at the beginning of her deleted files, there is some hope of her memories completely returning. I don't know if I should push her, see how much more she remembers. I log a reminder to ask Ratchet for files on memory recovery.

Suddenly, I realize just how small and defeated Nightshade looks, sitting there in that bare brig cell. I have never professed attachment to the Autobot cause; I keep my distance from my fellows more often than not. And yet, I know what it feels like to be in her position. Outside all of it, confused and looked-down upon. She must be terrified. We connected early on. She is as much of a loner as I am, although she came with a sibling. How many hours did we spend sitting in silence in the Terran nights?

I heave a sigh all the way from my exhaust ports up. I can't believe I'm about to do this, after what she did to Blue. My fingers tag the keypad lightly, barely tacking along the buttons. As the force barrier recedes to grant me entrance, Nightshade lifts her head from her hands. In three strides I am on my knees before her.

"Do you remember anything else? From those early days?" I ask before I can even process what's coming out of my vocalizer. She stares at me, like I am an audacious spectre of sanity come to guide her through the darkness. Her optics are dim, and I pray to Primus that it is because her systems are turned inward, searching through corrupted files, and ghost-memories.

"I remember..." she begins softly, almost inaudibly. I lean forward to listen. "I remember... you... always alone..." She reaches out to me, but I don't draw back. I remind myself that Cliffjumper labels her an assassin, but at the same time, he once labeled me itraitor/i. Her fingers dance across the metal sheen of my facial planes; she cups my chin, and tilts me to look directly into her eyes. For a brief moment, I believe I may have found the path to her emotive circuits.

I want to speak, but something gives me pause. Her hand is warm. I have always known that she manipulates energon in its most raw and potent form. But not a single Autobot among the ranks has seen the pure power such a singular function gives her... until now... The heat grows, and her grip strengthens. I find myself unable to draw away from her, even as I reach out to grab onto her forearm.

"Nights! No!" I cry out to her, the words coming garbled and slurred. Energon arcs and crackles over my armor; I watch my external temperature soar, as my internal functions begin to shut down one by one. Her eyes are glowing scarlet, a painful reminder of her Decepticon roots. Roots she's obviously returned to. My optics fizzle, my audio begins to overload.

She leans down until she is inches away from my crackling, overtaxed body. "Thank you." She whispers, just before my system hits stasis lock.


End file.
